Wednesday 25 February 2015

SHEILA GIRLING: OBITUARY

Sheila Girling: Obituary 
This is a summary of the obituary of Sheila Girling that was published in The Guardian newspaper on 24 February 2015.  The author is Christopher Masters. 
Sheila Girling
Sheila Girling was born in 1924: she died on 14 February 2015.
Sheila is acknowledged for her influence on her husband – the sculptor Anthony Caro.  She is also known for her acrylics and collages.
Girling often chose the colours for Caro’s sculptures.  Thus, Caro’s ‘seminal’ ‘Early One Morning’ of 1962 is red, but Caro originally intended it to be ‘an unappealing green’: ‘the history of postwar British art was undoubtedly the better for it’.  Girling was a ‘true modernist’.
Girling was born in Birmingham into an artistic family.  As a young woman Girling attended the Birmingham School of Art and then the Royal Academy Schools in London.  She met Caro at the RA in 1948.  In the late 1960s, after time spent in the USA, the Caros settled in studios in Camden Town where they worked together.  Caro died in 2013. 
In the time since settling in Camden Girling produced ‘works of an impressive emotional range within a clearly defined, highly abstracted style’.  Girling also produced figurative portraits. 

A retrospective exhibition will be held at Annely Juda Fine Art in London from 10th September 2015.

Monday 16 February 2015

GEOFFREY CLARKE'S COMMISSION FOR ST.CHAD'S CHURCH, RUBERY IN 1959

C. Turner. ‘Square World: Claire Turner finds symbolic value in Geoffrey Clarke’s abstraction’ in Art and Christianity 81 (Spring 2015). pp2-5.
This is a selective summary of the article by Claire Turner in Art and Christianity 81 (Spring 2015): C. Turner. ‘Square World: Claire Turner finds symbolic value in Geoffrey Clarke’s abstraction’.
Geoffrey Clarke was born in 1924: he died in October 2014.  An obituary of Geoffrey Clarke was summarised in this blog on 10 November 2014.  In the 1950s Geoffrey Clarke worked with Basil Spence to rebuild Coventry Cathedral. 
Claire Turner is Priest in Charge of St.Chad’s Church, Rubery, Birmingham.
Square World: Claire Turner finds symbolic value in Geoffrey Clarke’s abstraction
St.Chad’s Church, Rubery was built in the years after the Second World War.  One face of the building includes a regular series of five panels that extend from above windows formed of glass bricks upwards as far as the eaves of the gabled end of the roof.  It was originally intended that each panel should hold an artist’s commission, and this was fulfilled, but only for a few weeks prior to the church’s consecration in December 1959. 
The architect was Richard Twentyman working with partners Lavender and Percy. 
Geoffrey Clarke was commissioned by the architects to provide five works for the panels on the exterior wall, and the works that Clarke produced were significantly different from his work up to that time. 
The original commission was to produce five works that ‘represented, either as life-like reproductions or as symbols, the Virgin and Child, St John the Baptist, St Nicholas, St Chad and St Stephen’.  The Vicar at the time also suggested that the panels could represent scenes from the Book of Revelation. 
A catalyst for spiritual encounter or a site of transcendental searching
In a catalogue to an exhibition of Clarke’s work in 1994, Peter Black wrote of Clarke that Clarke was impressed by primitive pottery because it had been made as an integral part of the life of the potter and had not been made solely as a commodity: the piece of pottery and its decoration become an integral part of the ‘celebration of the meal or ritual associated with it’. 
This meaning was of the essence of Clarke’s work: the integration of his work into the lives of those around him so that his work could be ‘a catalyst for spiritual encounter or a site of transcendental searching’.
Clarke was experienced in producing work for the public domain and he was suitable for the commission. 
But at the time of the commission Clarke’s work was changing.  Until the late 1950s Clarke had used iron and bronze, but in the late 1950s he began to work with aluminium: he set up a foundry at his home in Suffolk and he cast aluminium in sand trays that retained marks and indentations.  He developed a technique using polystyrene moulds that were lost as the molten metal was poured into them. 
Clarke’s speed of working, and his desire to realise two dimensional sketches as three dimensional works achieved an immediacy that seems to have satisfied Clarke but which apparently did not allow adequate communication by Clarke of his intentions and meanings to would-be patrons.
Transformation from the tangible to the intangible
The reliefs for St.Chad’s Church, Rubery were entitled ‘Square World I-V’.  They were rejected by the Diocesan Advisory Committee for Churches which judged that the reliefs were ‘not considered to convey theological truth and were therefore inappropriate’.  It is known that Clarke was asked to provide an explanation of the works but it is not known if this was done. 
The symbols in the works are consistent with those that Clarke had been working with in the previous ten years.  Peter Black (1994 – see above) records that Clarke had written that to achieve perfect symbols is to achieve ‘transformation from the tangible to the intangible’.  This appears to have been Clarke’s aim.
Turner refers to the work of Judith le Grove in which she has sought to understand ‘Square World I-V’.  le Grove sees the crosses that are formed on each panel as the intersection of the earthly and the heavenly: fractures in the intersections point to disruption of union between the two realms.  Symbols on the panels indicate Christ’s birth, a serpent, a crook and a cross.
Reaching out of the frame towards something else, something transcendent
‘Square World I-V’ is currently at The Lightbox Gallery at Woking. 
Turner writes that ‘the symbolism isn’t obvious but there is enough – enough to invite the viewer into a conversation with the work, to join the artist in his search for understanding’. 
Turner argues that contemporary visual art, of which ‘Square World I-V’ is an example is to a degree ‘visual metaphysics’: an attempt to understand the world and to present a response to being in the world.  Meaning belongs to both the artist and the viewer. 
Turner concludes that ‘Square World I-V’ is a ‘handmade, humble approach that does not try to pretend; an open aesthetic where metal lines reach out of the frame towards something else, something transcendent …... I can’t actually think of anything better to place on the front of a church’.

A footnote states that a current attempt to have ‘Square World I-V’ loaned to St.Chad’s Church, Rubery has the support of the Diocesan Advisory Committee.   

Saturday 7 February 2015

GEORGE SEGAL'S SCULPTURE: 'THE HOLOCAUST'

George Segal’s ‘The Holocaust’: Biblical Subject Matter and God as Center in Adams, D. Transcendence with the Human Body in Art: George Segal, Stephen de Staebler, Jasper Johns and Christo.  Crossroads Pub. Co. 1991.
This is a personal summary of the chapter entitled ‘George Segal’s ‘The Holocaust’: Biblical Subject Matter and God as Center’ in the book Transcendence with the Human Body in Art: George Segal, Stephen de Staebler, Jasper Johns and Christo
‘Explicit articulation of the human body’ presents transcendence
George Segal was born in 1924.  His sculptures present transcendence and Biblical subject matter.  Segal’s most extensive sculpture is ‘The Holocaust’.  In the works of Segal ‘relationships with a centre beyond self’ suggest non-verbal post-modern theology.
For Segal the human body ‘affirms historic subject matter and transcendence’. 
Segal succeeds the modernist abstraction of American artists of the 1940s and 50s.  Contrary to Newman and Rothko who asserted the necessity of abstraction to express the transcendent, Segal asserts that ‘explicit articulation of the human body’ presents transcendence.
Segal’s ‘The Holocaust’
Segal’s ‘The Holocaust’ (1984) is in The Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco.  There is transcendence in this sculpture through uniting the Twentieth Century Holocaust with Scriptural narratives, and through the joining of figures within the sculpture with each other and ‘relating to a center beyond themselves’.
The sculpture is located in a way that allows it to be approached from several different directions, thus inviting different interpretations.
Three figures that are represented in the sculpture may be perceived as Adam, Eve and God (Genesis 2 & 3): God is the central figure.   There is another group of figures nearby: an older man and a young boy, and a ‘central figure’; Scripture suggests that these should be identified with Abraham and his son Isaac and ‘God’s intervening angel’ (Genesis 22: 1-19). 
Abraham and Isaac
Segal had previously made two sculptures showing Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac. 
When the sculpture of 1973 (‘The Sacrifice of Isaac’) is considered, Adams asserts that the demeanour and dynamics of both the 1973 sculpture and ‘The Holocaust’ ‘affirm the figures’ continuing relation to the earth’, which I take to mean that both are faithful to the Scriptural narrative in which the sacrifice does not take place and that redemption is affirmed.  But the figure of Abraham in ‘The Holocaust’ is stated by Adams to be ambiguous in his intention.  ‘The Sacrifice of Isaac’ is in the Tel Aviv Museum.
In Segal’s 1970 sculpture (‘The Holocaust.  In Memory of May 4, 1970, Kent State: Abraham and Isaac’), Abraham is shown in a threatening and ‘ignoble’ stance towards his son.  The son is in a posture that is submissive and bound, and the father is aggressive, but if the son should stand he would be seen to be taller and stronger than his father.  Kent State University rejected the sculpture and it now stands at Princeton University.
Abraham, Sarah, Ishmael, Hagar, Lot and Lot’s daughters
There are two further Segal sculptures that deal with the Abraham narrative. 
Segal’s ‘Abraham’s Farewell to Ishmael’ of 1987 comprises four figures representing Sarah, Abraham, Hagar and Ishmael.  The Scriptural narrative is Genesis 21: 1-21.  Hagar – servant to Abraham’s wife Sarah  – had borne Abraham’s first-born son Ishmael because it was believed that Sarah was beyond child-bearing age.  But when Sarah gave birth to Isaac, Sarah wanted Hagar and Ishmael to be banished.  In the sculpture Abraham embraces Ishmael, and Hagar embraces herself separately in the same stance: Sarah looks on.
Segal’s ‘The Legend of Lot’ (1966) shows another separation scene within the Abraham narrative, although Abraham is not portrayed.  Lot is a nephew of Abraham (Genesis 11: 26-32).  Genesis 19 includes Lot’s wife becoming a pillar of salt when she turns to see the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and subsequently the two daughters of Lot (not named in the Christian Bible) becoming pregnant by their father for want of another man to continue their family line.  Lot’s wife is shown as a pillar of salt and Lot is shown unconscious with his daughters taking advantage of him. 
Adams writes that ‘The Legend of Lot’ is a parody of Genesis 19 and Genesis 21.  The theme is ‘faithfulness and unfaithfulness’: both stories are moral dilemmas concerning obedience, procreation and inheritance.
Segal’s ‘The Holocaust’
When viewing ‘The Holocaust’, Segal wants the viewer to have the whole breadth of the Biblical narrative in mind.  
In Scripture ‘holocaust’ is associated with sacrifice.  The holocaust may be seen through the story of Adam and Eve or through the story of Abraham and Isaac.  The sculpture ‘The Holocaust’ shows a bigger picture: the central figure and those around it form a cruciform shape.  Segal has affirmed that he intended a cruciform shape, however problematic this may be in a Jewish setting.  Thus the central figure in ‘The Holocaust’ may be Christ, or possibly ‘God or God’s angel’. 
The shape of the sculpture ‘The Holocaust’ may also be perceived to be a Star of David. 
The central figure may also be perceived to represent ‘nature itself’. 
In the manner of presenting each of the figures in the sculpture Segal has said that the sensuality of the two women in ‘The Holocaust’ ‘contributes to the sense of lively survival’ that provides ‘affirmations of life’ in the sculpture.
The ‘most hellish scene in the sculpture’ is to the lower left of the sculpture’s central figure: the conventional location for hell in medieval paintings of Christ’s Last Judgement.  The figures in this ‘most hellish scene’ are ‘a pile of bodies’.
In addition to the figures that lie in a cruciform or Star of David shape, another figure stands to one side against a barbed wire fence: his separateness emphasises the ‘interrelation’ of the other figures which ‘defies the horror of the Holocaust’. 
The sculpture is ambiguous between the various Scriptural stories that it may evoke and in the Christian and Jewish ways in which the sculpture may speak: thus ‘any one view or interpretation is transcended’. 
Segal intends that those who see ‘The Holocaust’ allow their own experience, imagination and sense of Scripture to interact with the sculpture.  He particularly wants the sculpture to honour the rich personal intellect and spirituality of those who died in the Holocaust.
Comments by Segal on ‘The Holocaust’
Adams then refers to Segal’s comments on the sculpture, covering these subjects:
·         differences between post-modern art and pre-modern art in the use of Biblical subjects, and of the human figure;
·         his desire that ‘The Holocaust’ should have within it a strong affirmation of the value of life – a celebration of life ‘beyond the death, injustice and genocide’;
·         his intention that gentleness, love and forgiveness should pervade ‘The Holocaust’.
Some positive and negative criticisms
Adams then covers some positive and negative criticisms of ‘The Holocaust’:
·         Andrea Liss doubts whether any artistic response to the event of the Holocaust is valid because the response to despair should be only silence.  Elie Wiesel wrote, after Samuel Beckett: ‘Even to write about despair is a step beyond despair’.
·         Felstiner quotes Selz who considers that only abstract art may make a valid response to the event of the Holocaust ‘in order to avoid domestication’. 
·         Rodati objects to the presence of relatively healthy bodies being portrayed in ‘The Holocaust’.
·         Adams describes the work of the artist Alice Lok Cahana – a survivor of Auschwitz.
·         Adams states that contemporary Jewish sources are not critical of ‘The Holocaust’ for its Christian allusions, because of the valued transcendence that the sculpture evokes. 
·         A post-modern understanding is shown in the work of Mark Taylor who believes that post-modernism should begin with an understanding of ‘irrevocable loss and incurable fault’.   Post-modern art should start with the principle not of the great loss that has occurred but with the gain of the new personal autonomy that has been gifted.  Adams writes that this stance presents opportunities to make ‘new connections to wider worlds and histories as in George Segal’s art’. 
Adams concludes that ‘The Holocaust’ offers transcendence, connections and a centre beyond the individual.  



THE FACES OF MODIGLIANI: IDENTITY POLITICS UNDER FASCISM

The Faces of Modigliani: Identity Politics under Fascism. 
Klein, M. & Brown, E, (2004) in M. Klein (ed.), Modigliani: beyond the myth.  New York / New Haven Conn.: Jewish Museum. pp25-42.     
This is a personal summary of the paper ‘The Faces of Modigliani: Identity Politics under Fascism’ by Klein, M. & Brown, E. (2004) in M. Klein (ed.), Modigliani: beyond the myth.  New York / New Haven Conn.: Jewish Museum. pp25-42.    
Who is defined as “European”?
Despite their unvarying style, Amedeo Modigliani’s portraits of faces do show variety.  In the time of Modigliani, Montparnasse was a centre of modernist art and a home for émigrés: the portraits that he painted here effectively ask ‘Who is defined as “European” in the years around the First World War?’
Modigliani’s style cannot easily be defined.  Characteristics of his portrait style include: the influence of African sculpture; emphasis on qualities of passivity and modesty; and styles of imagery that originate more from Eastern Europe and the Orient than from Western Europe and which define the ‘otherness’ of Modigliani’s subject matter.
A modernist
Modigliani was born an Italian Sephardic Jew. 
In Paris Modigliani’s origin distinguished him from Eastern European Jews.  And to be Italian in Paris was to embody a land that had been snubbed diplomatically as a backward nation at the dangerous southern margin of European civilisation.  Modigliani’s choice of Italian women as models reinforced Parisians’ preconceived notions of Italian indolence.  
Modigliani was, however, from Livorno, in Tuscany, the birthplace of Renaissance art, and this, together with his ‘aristocratic bearing’, gave him an air cultural authenticity in Paris.  Conversely, Modigliani’s success in Paris made him a celebrated artist in Italy. 
Modigliani died before the Fascist revolution of Benito Mussolini: after this revolution Modigliani’s legacy was fought over as Italian identity was itself redefined. 
Livorno was well-established as a cosmopolitan city in which Jews had long played an integral part.  A greater dichotomy in Modigliani in the 1920s was his role primarily as a Tuscan, rather than as an Italian. 
The Futurists hung works by Modigliani in the Italian section of the Exposition Internationale d’Art Moderne in Geneva in 1920, and in doing this they were the first to ‘claim Modigliani for the patriotic cause’.  Modigliani was first hung publically in Italy in 1922 in Venice.  Also included in this show – the XIII Bienalle – were African sculptures.  
Modigliani’s work was not received well, but this was apparently not on the basis of Modigliani’s Jewishness or on his style’s association with ‘l’arte negra’: he was decried for being a modernist. 
Self-discovery in Bohemian Paris
In 1927 Giovanni Scheiwiller produced the first Italian monograph on Modigliani: this is the origin of the ‘standard interpretation of Modigliani’s experience abroad’: of self-discovery in Bohemian Paris; of Modigliani’s ‘italianita’ being revealed in the artist’s elegance of style; and the ‘humility’ of his portraits of women being in the line of the old masters’ depictions of the Madonna. 
Modigliani’s Jewishness was not mentioned by Scheiwiller.  Scheiwiller’s ‘interpretation’ of the decadence of Modigliani’s life and his restlessness is ‘displaced onto the contemporary Parisian environment’.
Positive stereotypes of Jewish religion and culture
It was in 1929 that Lamberto Vitali gave an account of Modigliani’s ‘racial qualities’: in Modigliani the qualities of the Italian and the Jewish were combined and both were displayed to good effect.  But Vitali is writing about himself and his own Italian Jewish identity as much as about Modigliani.  
Vitali was nevertheless the first Italian critic to describe positive stereotypes of Jewish religion and culture: the eroticism of Modigliani’s nudes was ‘transfigured into chaste emotion’; and Modigliani’s sensuality drew on Judaism’s ancient worship of women ‘with the most ancient and beautiful of hymns’. And Vitali found that Modigliani’s draughtsmanship echoed that of the 14th Century Tuscan Christian artist Simone Martini. 
Thus, Modigliani embodied Jewish and Christian, and ancient and modern.
1930: a climate of intensified chauvinism
The 1930 Venice Biennale showed a large number of Modigliani’s works.  The Italian businessman Riccardo Gualino provided many of the Modiglianis for the Biennale.  Gualino was advised in his purchasing of art by Lionello Venturi who believed that Cezanne epitomised modern art. 
Venturi championed Modigliani as a model for Italian artists.  Marinetti – the leader of the Futurists – took issue with Venturi, wanting to promote Futurism as the ideal of modern Italian art.  Gualino favoured the Turin school known as the Gruppo dei Sei in preference to the Futurists: he gave them access to his Modiglianis. Venturi championed Modigliani as the ‘outsider of the art world’ who had remained open to any and all influences without allegiance to any programme or movement. 
The 1930 Venice Biennale was the first in which its administration intended its content to promote Fascist values.  Consequently artists aspiring to the Biennale tended to work from classical or Latin sources.  Thus the Modiglianis in the exhibition contrasted with ‘this climate of intensified chauvinism’. 
Paradoxically it was Antonio Maraini – the new secretary general of the Venice Biennale – who then commissioned a Modigliani retrospective exhibition from Venturi, also in 1930.  Venturi tended to be anti-Fascist; the location for the retrospective was to be Turin – also anti-Fascist.  Gualino was not anti-Fascist, but he was not a willing servant of Mussolini.   At the Venice Biennale Venturi championed Modigliani as a model Italian: open-minded, open to influences across national boundaries, and to be preferred to Italians who find fault in anything non-Italian.  Thus the Modigliani retrospective was politically loaded.  
Thirty seven Modigliani portraits and one landscape were in the show.  Critics applauded Venturi’s endeavour in curating the show, but they cared little for the show’s ‘European perspective’.  There was anti-Semitism in criticism of the show, and this was presented as slurs on, amongst other things: Modigliani’s eroticism; Jewish art dealers who handled Modigliani’s works; Eastern European Jewish artists in Paris; and Modigliani’s ‘melancholic disposition’.
The wandering Jew
A powerful perception ‘that was present in European fin-de-siècle Europe’ was that of the “wandering Jew”. 
It was held that the Jewish diaspora was rootless and thus unable to develop a distinctive Jewish artistic culture.  Moreover, it was held that this diaspora was responsible for disseminating modernism.  Modigliani was understood and accepted as Italian because Jews had ‘lived on the peninsula for two thousand years’, but when ‘in exile’ in Paris, Modigliani had become an émigré Jew as much as an Italian yearning for home. 
The stereotypes of Jewishness were applied to Modigliani and his life and death in Paris: he had assimilated the modern art around him because Jews had no artistic culture of their own, and yet as a Tuscan he had drawn on his Renaissance heritage, thus proving his genius. 
The influential critic – and advisor to Mussolini – Margherita Sarfatti – a Jew – argued that Zionism was a threat to Italy and its Jews.  Sarfatti ignored Modigliani’s Jewishness and regarded him as having been an ambassador of Tuscany abroad.  It was held that Modigliani had nothing in common with the works of his fellow Jews in Paris: Marc Chagall, the abstractionist and the disturbing Chaim Soutine.
Modigliani’s portraits
Modigliani’s portraits were received as modernist versions of the old masters.  The nudes were compared with Botticelli; the faces of demure women were compared with those of Madonnas and other saints and virgins.  ‘Stereotypes of Jewish suffering’ merged with ‘Christian misericorda’.  This was symbolic of the Vatican’s recently-made concordat with the new Fascist government.   
The narrative of Modigliani’s life was given overt Christian symbolism: his time in Paris was a ‘road to Calvary’; Modigliani was a ‘hermit of beauty’ who sought neither fame nor disciples; ‘the diasporic Jew and the patriotic Italian came together in this “martyr for art”’.  Alberto Savinio asserted that ‘the destiny of all “good” Jews is to relive the tragedy of Christ – to be Christianised’. 
Fascism and duplicity
Subsequent to the 1930 retrospective exhibition, the proponents of Modigliani began to suffer under Fascism.  Venturi fled to Paris.  Gualino was imprisoned.  Carlo Levi – leader of the Gruppo dei Sei - was exiled.  Gualino’s collection of Modiglianis went to private collectors but none entered a national museum: one was acquired by a gallery in Berlin and became subject to the Nazis’ degenerate art collection. 
In his book of 1928 ‘Kunst und Rasse’, Paul Schultze-Naumberg had described Modigliani’s work ‘Ragazza’ as typifying the ‘biological degeneracy of modern art’.  Schultze-Naumberg sought to show the similarity of ‘Ragazza’ with photographs of ‘the mentally and physically “diseased”’.  Thus modern art was held to be ‘sick’.
Klein and Brown show the duplicity of the Fascist regime in the way in which it contributed eleven Modiglianis to an exhibition of modern Italian art in Paris in 1935, though the eleven works were selected for not depicting Italian people. 
After 1938 the intensity of discourse in this ‘culture war’ increased with the introduction of racial laws.  An Italian anti-degenerate art campaign sought out principally French art, ‘living Italian modernists’, ‘geometric abstractionists’ and ‘Rationalist architects’.
Simultaneously, avant-garde Italian artists defended modernism from the charge of Jewishness.  Udo Bernasconi had contributed to a 1927 published work by Scheiwiller which contained first-hand reminiscences of Modigliani, but now Bernasconi initially defended Modigliani’s style, but then described his ‘caricatural style’ as ‘a product of Modigliani’s “Israelite blood”’.
Even so, during the Second World War Modiglianis remained in private collections and there is evidence that his work was not universally reviled by the Fascists – because of his great international reputation.
A ‘collective portrait of the socially marginal’: the ‘European tribe’
Modigliani shows the complexity of the dynamics of negative Jewish stereotyping. 
Modigliani’s ‘otherness’ was a changeable matter, depending on context. 
There is no way of knowing if Modigliani felt ‘other’. 
There is no evidence that explains his affinity for ‘l’arte negra’. 
Klein and Brown argue that the strongest evidence lies in Modigliani’s manner of painting the eyes of a portrait: these are typically blank, in an African ‘non gaze’.  Thus, Modigliani’s faces suppress emotion: each becomes a part of the ‘collective portrait of the socially marginal’. 

Klein and Brown argue that Modigliani painted the ‘European tribe’ in a challenge to the monolithic Christian perception of Europe.